Center Stage
Page 14

Arianna shook her head. “No. I don’t know who it is.”
But he didn’t buy that.
He’d have to not worry about it. She was allowed her secrets. He sure had his.
Chapter Eight
Arianna set the table, but her hands shook. She’d silenced her phone and stuck it in her pocket. It had rung three more times since John had gone out on the porch to grill steaks.
She could only imagine who it was and that made anger pump through her veins.
That stupid son of a bitch was playing mind games, but why? What could he gain by messing with her?
Regan certainly wouldn’t leave her family for him, nor would Arianna ever tell him what she knew about their baby’s whereabouts. Regan had never even looked at her baby when she’d had her. She’d forced Curtis to take her away. Besides, that had been four years ago. Why cause problems now?
Arianna looked out the window. She could see John standing on the porch in his heavy coat. His breath carried on the cold. Would he protect her?
Of course he would. He personally knew Alexander Hamilton, and he knew what kind of monster the man was. If he cared for her at all, he’d never let the monster near her or her family.
But that was a lot to ask of the man you were sleeping with.
Then again, she needed to admit. It was more than that.
It wasn’t just sex when she had to run and tell her sister about it. It wasn’t just physical when the very thought of his smile made her warm. This went deeper.
The flowers he’d brought her were now in a vase on the kitchen table. She couldn’t remember the last time a man brought her flowers. Obviously it hadn’t mattered. These flowers mattered.
She heard the lid of the grill close, and a moment later, the back door opened and John walked through with cold air blowing in behind him.
“I must have wanted steak really bad. I’m sure my blood is frozen in my veins.”
“We could have gone out for steak.”
John shook his head as he set the platter down on the table. “No way. I’ve learned something about you. You spare no expense on things you’ll personally use. Your grill is no exception.”
She laughed. “Carlos bought the grill when he lived here.”
“Okay, so your family has good taste.”
She thought about her siblings and their significant others. Yes, her family had good taste, and she must have it, too. John Forrester was a catch, and not one of her family members would disagree.
They ate dinner in silence. It seemed to be the way the man worked. It wasn’t until she’d pushed her plate away that John looked up at her to speak.
“You wouldn’t want to take a drive, would you?”
Arianna shrugged her shoulders. “If you’d like to.”
“I have something I want to show you.”
“It’s almost eight. You want to show me something in the dark?”
His lips pursed. “Yes.”
John wasn’t sure she’d take him up on his offer, but he simply couldn’t hold out any longer. He drove through Nashville with Arianna seated right next to him. If ever there was a reason to keep a truck with an old bench seat, this was one of them.
George Strait was on the iPod, and the hum of the heater filled any void where silence might become awkward. He knew he was in his own kind of heaven.
Arianna watched the sights of the city, in full swing, from the window. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Are we just going to pass each of these bars or go in one? I mean, at least we’re in a city where there is ample entertainment.”
“We’re almost there.”
He saw the building in the distance. Without any of the lights on, it made the entire neighborhood dark. The sight was eerie and unsettling.
John pulled the truck up in front and parked.
Arianna looked around. “This is where you wanted to go?”
“What do you think?”
She looked around and then back at him. “Of what?”
“The building. It’s the old Rockwell Theater.”
She narrowed her eyebrows as if she were trying to remember something. “The last show they did here was a community version of Phantom, right?”
He chuckled. “I have no idea. I have to admit, theater isn’t my thing—usually.”
Arianna let out a grunt and then turned her attention back to the building. “So, why are we here?”
“They have the building slated for demolition unless someone buys it and renovates it.”
He watched her process the information. “So, it’s for sale?”
“Yes.”
He couldn’t quite read her and that bothered him.
“You’d mentioned that you’d like to do community theater and teach.”
“I did.” Her words were drawn out slowly.
John turned in his seat to face her. “I have a business proposition for you.”
“I’m listening.” Again, her words stretched out.
“I’ve worked for Benson, Benson, and Hart since I was twenty. I learned a trade under Zach’s grandfather and was promoted under Zach’s father. I took Zach to work with me for years, teaching him a trade. They’ve always taken care of me.” He was rambling. “Point is, other than my TV, my recliner, and my import beer, I’ve never needed for anything—until now.”
He heard her suck in a breath. “What does that mean?”
“It means I would like to buy this theater, with some matched investment capital from Benson, Benson, and Hart.”
She nodded. “And what are you going to do with that?”
“That’s my business offer for you. I want to help you renovate it and open your theater.”
“You want to buy me a theater?”
“Well, no. Yes. What I mean is it’s an investment. I know you can do this, and I want to help.”
This time she crossed her arms, and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. She contemplated for a moment longer.“I don’t know what I want to do.”
“You told me…”
“I know what I told you. I didn’t think you were listening.”
If she’d only known what he’d been hearing for the past year. “If this isn’t what you want…”
“I don’t want to owe anyone.”
“It wouldn’t be like that.”